


Through to the Other Side

by Nemirovitch



Category: Twelve O'Clock High (1949)
Genre: Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemirovitch/pseuds/Nemirovitch
Summary: Frank's in a bad way, but he'll make it through with some help.





	Through to the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/gifts).



A shaft of silvery blue moonlight shone through a gap in the drapes as he woke. It was always the same nightmare that tore his eyes open, the only difference was the angle of light creeping in as the moon waxed and waned. The moon was fixed in its journey around the Earth as much as he was stuck in his nightmare's death spiral each night. 

Silence replaced the cries and screams now he was awake. A ragged sob and his pounding heart took over from the radio static and staccato tracer fire hitting the plane.

Once or twice, he thought he'd seen an airman slumped in the chair by the window. Maybe it was a trick of the light and his sleep-deprived imagination. Maybe.

Frank opened his eyes to darkness, the blackout curtain shielding him from the outside world. The shadows of nightmares within nightmares taunted him, tendrils of memory probing into the wakeful world.

He felt the pressure of his hand upon his chest, and the weight of the blanket over him. It comforted him with the promise of life. 

Slowly, he rose from the bed, his weary limbs protesting as he walked to the window. The first throes of dawn were lighting the sky outside as he pulled the curtain to one side. Looking to the sky, Frank thought of the two planes that didn't make it back. He realized that the promise of life was always accompanied by death – that was part of the bargain.

A lone figure had stopped nearby and was looking up at the sky. Frank tapped on the window to get his attention. Keith turned at the sound and gave him a warm smile, then made his way inside.

With the curtain back in place, Frank turned on the lamp and added some more wood to the fire. Keith came in with some coffee and perched on the desk as Frank accepted the mug.

“Sleep alright?” Keith asked carefully, watchful of Frank's demeanor.

“Can't say that I did,” Frank admitted, eyes fixed on the coffee. He paused, then looked into Keith's eyes. “At least I can wake up.”  
“They knew what the stakes are,” Keith sounded as if he were reassuring himself a little. “We can still fight for their memories.”

“A 21 year old kid with a wisp of a mustache. A man,” Frank started, before falling into silence.

“All of them. Good men,” Keith answered as he leaned forward. “And a first rate man leading them all.”

Frank closed his eyes as Keith grasped his arm. Solid and comforting, it helped dissipate the ghostly fear that dogged his sleep. Who knew how long the war would last. How many more kids would become men, would become corpses? 

As the two men fell into an embrace, Frank knew that men like Keith would make all the difference in the world. As long as Keith was fixed in his journey with Frank, he knew he could make it through.


End file.
